


I like food

by PiratePichu



Category: Hell's Kitchen (US TV) RPF
Genre: M/M, What Have I Done, Why have I wasted my time writing gay bs between a meme and a man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 08:03:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14564598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiratePichu/pseuds/PiratePichu
Summary: Gordon/ JP from Hells Kitchen because I am a fool





	I like food

237.  
Jean-Philippe paced heel to toe, back and forth in long black shoes, scouring and re-scouring the various types of plates and bowls stacked in a large glass cabinet in Hell’s Kitchen. He had looked them over 3 times, checked the storage room, the sink, and the contestants. 20 bowls and 33 plates had disappeared from their rightful place, leaving a measly 237.

“Gordon is going to kill me.” He murmured to himself, opening and closing the glass cabinet doors. Briefly, he considered simply buying the missing dishes himself, but Gordon would no doubt appreciate that even less, and there was no way he’d get the right type on time. He sighed heavily, and smoothed his already perfectly ironed suit jacket.

Nervously, he rounded a corner and ran up the stairs to Gordon’s office.

He knocked on the door politely and it responded, “Come In”, so he did. There, Gordon sat at his desk, glasses balanced oddly on his long nose as he looked down at a small stack of paperwork. JP had always thought he looked better without the weird white chef’s costume he wore, the blue of his dress shirt reflected wonderfully in the light from his office lamp.

“Hello, JP, what do you need?” Gordon said as he looked up from his work.

“Gordon. We only have 237 plates and bowls.” He said. Gordon looked confused.

“We are supposed to be having 290!” JP said.

“Well, it’s not like 63 dishes just got up and left ey?” Gordon said.

“Agreed. Yes, Yes. But I have checked everywhere- all over the restaurant, and with the contestants as well.” JP said. He had started to lose track of his words, listing out each cabinet he looked through and for how long as Gordon propped his legs up onto his desk. It shook with his weight, and something clinked underneath.

“I even looked around every table in Hell’s Kitchen!” Jean-Philippe said.

“Did you check under the tables?” Gordon said. Jean-Philippe cocked his head before a boat of realization drowned his confusion. In one swift movement, he dipped his back straight down, his head parallel to the floor as he peeked under Gordon’s desk. The moment he did, Gordon kicked his legs off the table and pushed himself upwards by the arms of his office chair. It was a glorious view for all of three seconds, JP’s perfect belgian butt hung in the air like an angel. He shot back up as Gordon dropped back into his seat.

“Gordon!” Jean-Philippe shouted, rushing over to his side. Gordon had started to laugh, watching him dig deep under his desk to retrieve 33 plates and 20 bowls.

“Was this some sort of prank?” Jean-Philippe said.

“Oh don’t be such a baby JP! Yes it was a prank, come here.” Gordon said through laughs. He gave his back a friendly pat. Jean-Philippe unappreciatively wiped his back clean before breaking into a chuckle. He was always too strung up. To do work without getting stressed would be a dream. Gordon motioned towards the dishes.

“Come on sir, help me bring some of this shit back down, yeah?” Gordon said. JP nodded, taking the tall stack of bowls within two hands. The bowls were suprisingly heavy, and his arms shivered under their weight. He decided it was best to leave Gordon with the stack of plates, since he was much stronger, but as he glanced back he noticed Gordon had barely even gotten a good grip.

“Come on, Come on.” Jean-Philippe said, dropping his bowls to come to his side. He cocked his head, watching Gordon’s face reddened as he lifted the plates an inch off the table. He hissed in air, his fingers buckling.

“Almost there, yes yes.” Jean-Philippe continued. Gordon slammed the plates back down, his face gleaming red.

“Jean-Philippe would you shut the fuck up?” Gordon said. JP held in a little gasp, but before he even had time to ponder how utterly rude that was to say, Gordon had stuck his fingers into his mouth, tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Jean-Philippe asked.

“Damn contestant spilled scalding hot cooking oil on my hands this morning. The burns still really haven’t healed up, and all that pressure from the damn plates.” Gordon said. “I’m sorry for snapping JP, truly I am, but you were nagging like my damn mum!” Jean-Philippe hadn’t really listened to the last part, instead he grabbed Gordon’s right hand, examining it closely. He wasn’t sure how he first missed it. Blisters covered his fingers, pulsating red, no wonder he had been in pain.

“I have a creme with me, Belgium made, very good for these kinds of things.” Jean-Philippe said. 

“Jean-Philippe you don’t have too-”

“Please, Gordon, I insist.” He said, his hands firmly at his sides.

“Alright, okay, I’m not even going to ask why you bring a goddamn special creme to work, but whatever. Fuck it, bring it over.” Gordon said. Jean-Philippe nodded, and left just to reappear within the minute.

“It is a form of vaseline. But with lavender and honey.” Jean-Philippe explained, swiping his fingers with it and taking Gordon’s burnt hand. He applied it where the oil had touched, firmly rubbing it into his palms and fingers until the grease soaked deeply into the burns. Gordon watched his fingers methodically, apply creme and tenderly knead it into his skin. It was near entrancing, watching JP work so tirelessly for him. It was flattering.

“Thank you, Jean-Philippe.” Gordon said. He nodded.

“Ah, I forgot one step.” Jean-Philippe said, grabbing Gordon’s wrist one last time “Kisses make better!” he said and delivered a silky small kiss onto the palm of his hands. He smiled as he looked up at him. Gordon raised his second wrist, and JP reached for it and gave it a kiss as well. He blushed, his touch lingering on Gordon’s hands.

“Feeling better?” He asked. Gordon didn’t respond.

He held the side of Jean-Philippe’s head with his right hand, pulling him up to face him. Full height, all closeness- he realized much to late Jean-Philippe’s leg was between his own. It was magnetic, Jean-Philippe looked flustered and adorable, his eyes suddenly fascinating pools of brown that stuck in Gordon’s mind like caramel.Gordon held back a variety of flustered curses, a fantastic guilty feeling stirred in his jeans. He moved his left hand to Jean-Philippe’s back, placing it there. An invitation of sorts, one that he signed with a cheeky smile that burst past the redness of his cheeks. Jean-Philippe accepted, leaning forward so he dodged in Gordon’s nose and landed on his lips.

It had been different with other people, there had always been a second of awkwardness before the kiss. A second of readjustment to the new space before he could really start enjoying himself. It wasn’t like that with Ramsay, he was suprisingly easy to get accustomed to. His hand which wandered to Jean-Philippe’s hair, his desire for closeness, his small breaths out between deep lovely kisses, Jean-Philippe learned it all in an instant. He was oddly easy to dominate, for such a stubborn personality. He just leaned back, taking anything JP offered and holding onto his hips with a hand. In between kisses smeared across Gordon’s neck, there were a few moments where Jean-Philippe suddenly came back to his senses. Questions like “how far are we willing to go with this” and “what happens afterward” sunk in and out of his consciousness. He thought this in a pattern, he had discovered, which correlated with how many times Gordon would compliment him, or touch him on the hip. There was a knock on the door.

Jean-Philippe nearly hopped out of his skin, and frantically squirmed out between Gordon’s legs. Gordon reacted less dramatically, muttering a curse aloud before tucking in his ruffled shirt. JP quickly did the same.

“Give me a minute mate!” Gordon called to the door. He turned to face JP, his blush evaporating quickly to make room for an unwelcome air of professionalism.

“Listen, we are not through with this alright? Tell me, we aren’t through with this?” Gordon whispered.

“No. We aren’t through with this.” JP whispered back. Gordon stared at him, searching for something in his eyes.

“Do you want this to continue?” Gordon said.

“Yes.” Jean-Philippe responded, and even he could hear hints of desperation in his voice. Gordon responded with a smile, and yelled ‘come in.’

Jean-Philippe exited, heel to toe, out of Gordon’s office as the contestant at the door shuffled inside. He stopped at the foot of the staircase to quickly reorganize his thoughts. First, he decided, he’d to go to the bathroom, to restyle his hair, take a breath, and better straighten out his suit. 

He passed it twice. Apparently he hadn’t done a great job reorganizing his thoughts, but there was nothing to organize, it was all just overwhelming feelings towards one angry man who he’d never thought would take any romantic interest in him. Sure, they had done plenty of things together, anything from yacht trips to sumo wrestling, but he would have never thought..

And yet. And yet! He tried to pull his hair back through the mess of overly excitable thoughts rushing through him. Just thought of him made him lose time. Who knew? Who knew.

It was 5:30 when the contestants from the red and blue teams seeped out from their dorms and lined up in front of Gordon. JP watched from the pickup counter. Gordon was two sides of a coin: heads, the no mess, anger-management-needing Gordon, who was all business, food, potential and judgement. Sexy, but also degrading, and maybe not his favorite side. Then tails: the Gordon that would bounce in his seat while laughing at his own jokes, and balance pens on his nose instead of work. 

“Alright!” from in the kitchen, Gordon clapped his hands and scanned over the contestants. Two staffers pushed a bulky cart with a red and blue tablecloth into the kitchen. Gordon walked to the cart, thanked the staffers, and gave JP a wink. He picked up a plate from the cart.

“One appetiser, two small, delicious main courses, one stunning desert. Your customer will eat and judge which course from which team is the best. So, both teams, you have a lot of prep to do, get to it.” The contestants rushed into the kitchen, focused immediately on preheating ovens and chopping vegetables. Gordon turned on his heel towards JP with a smile. He pushed the cart with the backs of his elbows until the cart was squarely in front of him.

“Gordon, what is the meaning of this cart? I can hold the plates.” Jean-Philippe asked.

“Nope. You have to use this cart. How else am I supposed to get a good look at your ass eh?” Gordon said, erupting into laughter.

Jean-Philippe felt his face redden. It was a guilty feeling, the beginning of their little secret, being flirted with at work. He’d always thought work was just that: work. Gordon patted JP on the shoulder, smiled so it echoed in his eyes, and left him for the kitchen. JP watched him go, watched him straighten out his chef’s jacket, hands slowly smoothing out his hips and thighs.Then he thought to himself that maybe he deserved a little secret to keep at work. Secrets were exhilarating.

The cart got heavier with food on it. Not to mention difficult to steer, JP swerved and pushed through the start of dinner service, working to avoid chairs and guest’s shoes. Halfway through appetisers he was already sweating. He could see Gordon snickering when he glanced back at the kitchen. When he came around to collect orders, he’d whisper something somewhere in the threeway crossroad between teasing, insults, and blatant flirting.

“Put your back into it love, God knows you’ve got plenty.” Was the last straw before Jean-Philippe Susilovic decided to strike back. Grasping the handles of the cart, he leaned forward, arching his back down in a way he hoped looked better then it felt. He felt his waist contort itself to be more visible to Ramsay from the kitchen. If Gordon wanted so desperately to look at his backside, he’d give him that chance, but on his own terms. He pushed the cart and served diners while sticking out his hips. Then he came back to the counter with the slowest, sexiest walk he could manage. 

“You’re cheating you know? I’m supposed to be the one fucking with you not the other bloody way around.” Gordon said.

“You are being silly, I am not playing a game I am working.” Jean-Philippe replied while checking his even nails

“Oh you smug bastard. Just wait ‘till I have my way with you.” Gordon said. JP stared at him, nervousness fluttering deeply in his stomach. He had never had sex with a man, he had never even dreamed he’d get close enough to a man who’d want too. It wasn’t a bad thought, he decided, not at all, just one he wasn’t fully prepared for. He hastily picked up the next tables dishes.

Jean-Philippe powered through the entrees, his position while pushing the cart causing pain to spring in his back and hips and sweat to slick his forehead. He paused, slipping off his damp suit jacket and wrapping it around his hips, tightening so that his white button down fit sharply around his waist. He pulled out a washcloth and wiped his forehead, then slicked back his hair. Smiling to himself, he stole a glance of Gordon and immediately regretted it. Gordon’s eyes bore into him even from across Hell’s Kitchen, with a hungry interest no man has ever shown for him. Probably, that no man had ever even had. Gordon turned around, but not without leaving him with a smirk that shot across the dining room and stirred in his dress pants. Jean-Philippe straightened out his suit.

Dinner service ended quickly. Despite a few blunders in both kitchens, Gordon waved the teams off from even having to choose someone to eliminate, and sent them to their dorms. JP shifted in his spot, he had always thought Ramsay liked eliminating people, especially annoying people, which both teams had quite a few of. He opted instead to yelling at them until they scuttled out of the dining room like rats from light. He turned dramatically towards JP, and they met halfway in the middle of the empty dining hall.

“Finally.” Gordon sighed, meeting him face to face. Gordon brushed his teeth against his lower lip, and scoured JP from head to toe then back again.

“Fuck.” He sighed after his third time up.

“What are you ‘fucking’ about?” JP said, and repeated as Gordon rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe you walked around like that all night.” Gordon said.

“What are you talking about I walked normally like I always do.” Jean-Philippe said, pushing a smile from the corner of his lips.

“Sure you did you doughnut.” Gordon stepped closer.

“I did! Any other way is unprofessional.” JP said.

“Oh really?” Gordon said, and somehow managed to step even closer, closer so that, if Gordon had been taller, their noses would have touched. His breaths were deep, and heat replaced the air in the space between them.

“Of course! I would never do anything to taunt or tease you Gordon, not for the worl-” Gordon rolled his eyes, grabbed his tie and yanked it down just a few centimeters, low enough to kiss him hard. Heat burst through the seams of his skin, nothing but instinct led him to grasp onto the dip in Gordon’s waist. Gordon tightened his hold on the tie, pushed himself closer so that their suits pressed against one another.

“You’re really shit at teasing anyway.” Gordon said between shallow gasps. Jean-Philippe hummed happily. 

There was no way just this morning he was worried about Gordon’s reaction to missing plates. Now he was wandering up to his personal bedroom, an occasion he had only just barely dared to dream about. He wasn’t afraid anymore, he was very notably the opposite, with Gordon walking in front of him so he could look at the shape of him freely from behind. His small curves, the backs of his biceps. The craving to see a man like that, big celebrity hard ass, thoroughly undone, drove his normal cautiousness to the corners of his mind. They reached a dark blue door. He watched Gordon unlock it and swing it open. 

“My fingers are feeling much better by the way, thank you.” Gordon said, shutting the door behind them.

“As I said, it’s a Belgian creme, the best in the world.”

“You left it in my office.” Gordon winked “You won’t mind if we use it for something else tonight, eh?” Jean-Philippe blushed a deep scarlet that made his fingers shiver. Snickering, Gordon brushed his hand, raising goosebumps from the small of his back, before he buried himself into the crook of Jean-Philippe’s neck.

Breaths tripped over themselves in the depths of his throat as Gordon nipped and kissed into him. His other hand reached up to trace the veins in his neck, the edges of his chin, as if he were some fine meat he planned to prepare. JP’s breaths calmed as soon as he let himself vocalize them. Gordon attended to his collarbone while he tried to think up things to do to return the favor. Foggy-minded, he slid his finger in and out of Gordon’s inner thigh, earning him a deep breath out echoed in his neck.

The entirety of his career was based on keeping the customer happy, so he felt entirely prepared to pamper Gordon. JP’s hand wandered to Gordon’s crotch, tugging, and letting another groan warm his shoulder. 

“Good. Excellent, Ah-” Gordon said, his hand holding firmly onto his shoulder. He was near chatty nuzzled next to his ear, each breath another compliment, a curse, a groan. He pressed closer to him.

“JP, my darling, let me see you.” He whispered against the corner of his earlobe. His hands grasped the sides of his hips, sliding down slowly and curling his fingers around a set of empty belt loops.

“No belt? Just for me?” Gordon said.

“No, I just forgot mine this evening.” Jean-Philippe said dimly. He was much too busy staring at Gordon’s hands twirling around his dress pants. Gordon snickered, thumping his head against JP’s shoulder.

“You don’t have a belt on either!” JP said.

“Be quiet you fucking doughnut.” A small blush speckled his cheeks as Gordon focused on unbuttoning JP’s shirt, “All beauty no brains.”

“Brains enough to seduce a beautiful chef.” JP said. Gordon’s blush erupted across his face, if it had been because of his comment or because of his now fully open shirt, JP would never know. Gordon’s hands spread across his chest, grasping at his thin cotton undershirt before peeling it over his head. He murmured something sweet as he pressed his hands against his bare, mostly hairless chest. Jean-Philippe didn’t hesitate to do the same, removing Gordon’s jacket and undershirt in one swift movement. Gordon sighed deeply as JP tossed it aside. 

Gordon was a way away from toned, the curve of his belly appeared and disappeared as he grinded against Jean-Philippe, but the possessive handle he maintained on his hips made JP forget about that completely. He hadn’t asked him if he could take off his dress pants. Instead he kissed him, ran a hand through his hair and unbuttoned with a satisfied grunt. He felt acutely aware of his own embarrassment for a moment, standing and watching another man, his boss, stare unapologetically at his underwear.

“Oh dear.” Gordon murmured, his mouth lolled open to let deep breaths out from the bottom of his chest.

“Sit down on the bed there won’t you darling.” Gordon said, quietly. His voice weighed down the room like heavy cream, slowing down everything. He pulled Jean-Philippe’s pants from his ankles, lowering himself to his knees in front of the bed. His eyes glazed over, Gordon looked at his cock as if it were absolutely divine. His hair a mess, he traced its length with his tongue, when he rose his breaths were shallow and strained. JP knew he looked terrible in comparison, he could feel his hair hang damp with sweat over the corners of his eyes, and his legs looked impish and unmanicured. JP unlatched his hands from the sheets, raising them to smooth back his hair. Gordon stopped them halfway up.

“You look gorgeous.” He said quietly, and dipped his head further into his length. JP’s hands shot back to the bed sheets. His hair, how he looked, all concerns that had emerged promptly disappeared with the bobbing of Gordon’s head. He lost control of the volume of his moans, swearing in french, he pushed upwards into the roof of Gordon’s throat. 

“Mm, I might just spoil my appetite you’re so damn delicious.” Gordon raised his head to lick pre-cum from his fingertips.

Jean-Philippe took the pause as an opportunity. Pulling Gordon up to his feet, he swapped places with the man and pushed him on the cushioned bed. Hand on his chest he kissed him for as long as he liked. 

JP grinded deeply against him, running his fingers across Gordon’s chest and pelvic bone peeking out from his pants. He promptly removed those, until he hovered over a squirming, near naked Ramsay. He traced a finger against the outline of his cock, earning an impatient grunt from below him.

“I am sorry if I am no good, I have not done this before.” Jean-Philippe said, slowly massaging Gordon’s cock through a barrier of fabric.

“I- Agh, I can tell, you haven’t taken my bloody drawers off yet.” Gordon said.

“No I did that on purpose, I am taking my time.” JP replied, and as if providing proof, gave one long tight stroke which drove out a filthy moan he’d only heard before online. He wasn’t entirely sure why he doubted himself in the first place, he had been masterbating for years. This was practically the same. Kind of. Teasing him had been something he had dreamt about doing for much longer than he’d care to admit. He sped up and Gordon gasped and cursed, his head pushing back into the bed’s mattress. His hands grabbed his hips tightly, squeezing down until he massaged JP’s ass from underneath him.

“God would you please just get this off of me.” Gordon said. “You’re going to drive me crazy.” He murmured, pinching Jean-Philippe so nicely that a moan pushed out between his lips.

He peeled his underwear off with all the satisfaction in the world. Gordon was a flushed mess, impatiently wandering JP’s hips before settling back around his cock.

 

“I wasn’t done teasing.” JP said in between a throaty groan.

“I don’t care.” Gordon replied, and started pumping hard and quickly against him. JP cursed in French, pouring kisses over Gordon and bucking against his touch. Hazily, he tried to return the favor with his eyes closed, kissing him until he ran out of breath. He broke to let out a hitched exhale, his hips pushing into Gordon’s slick hands. He moaned loudly, desperately grinding against him until he came hard into his hand and nearly fell on top of him. Quivering and still groaning out tiny gasps, Jean-Philippe lay close to Gordon.

Gordon held JP by his thigh, covering him with a blue duvet that had been torn from its place. He nuzzled close to the crook of his neck, and Gordon breaths slowed even further in response.  
There was a moment of peace. Gordon’s hand rubbing affectionately up and down his thigh while JP laid radiant and warm. 

JP’s head shot up suddenly, his hair a mess of black, “Gordon!” He said a bit nervously. Gordon didn’t bother to sit up, he just looked at JP rather sleepily and started licking cum from his fingers.

“We didn’t even, well, we didn’t get the chance too-”

“Bloody hell JP I’m tired.” Gordon said, shutting his eyes again.

“I thought that’s what you wanted. I thought you wanted to have your way with me.” JP said. The same nervousness billowed up in his lungs. He was hoping by this time he’d find himself suddenly prepared.

“I already did. Kind of.” He said, then his eyes creaked open so they could meet Jean-Philippe’s “Well, I got you at least. And I think you’re exactly what I wanted.” JP stared back, pride swelling up in his chest, he smiled down at him dumbly.

“Now lay back down I’m getting cold.” Gordon said, and as JP did Gordon rolled closer to him so that every inch of his body was perfectly warm.


End file.
